


The St. Valentine's Night Murders

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Explicit Language, Humor, M/M, Mystery, Parody, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-03
Updated: 2008-03-03
Packaged: 2018-10-01 13:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10190867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Every year for the past four years, St. Valentine's Night has seen a murder that affects both the Muggle and Wizard communities alike. This year, however, the Ministry of Magic has its two best Aurors on the case. If only they can stop insulting each other long enough to get some work done.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Title:** The St. Valentine's Night Murders  
 **Author:** SoftlySweetly  
 **Beta:** Potion_Lady  
 **Rating:** NC17  
 **Word Count:** ~7,300  
 **Warnings:** Slash, Sex, Skirt!porn, and all manner of other goodies, EWE  
 **Summary** : Harry/Draco – Every year for the past four years, St. Valentine's Night has seen a murder that affects both the Muggle and Wizard communities alike. This year, however, the Ministry of Magic has its two best Aurors on the case. If only they can stop insulting each other long enough to get some work done.  
 **Disclaimers:** I own nothing, and make no profit from this. Please heed all warnings and the rating.  
 **Notes:** Written for Alisanne in the HPValensmut exchange on LiveJournal.

 

 

 

Studiously not looking at the smirking blond next to him, and studiously not letting his voice catch, raise, trip, or otherwise reveal that his heart was racing and his balls were trying to creep back into his body, Harry spoke slowly and carefully. "Can you repeat that please, Senior Auror Shacklebolt? I think I misheard you."

Already with more paperwork than he'd ever finish to be getting on with, Kingsley let his exasperation be known as he flattened his palms on the desk and faced the two young Aurors opposite him. "You and Auror Malfoy will be going undercover to apprehend the – what have the papers called him?"

"The Valentine Violator, Sir," Draco offered, sounding far too happy for a man discussing one of the worst serial killers their world had seen in years. 

"Aaah, yes, I knew it was something suitably vulgar and inaccurate. Regardless, Auror Potter, you and Auror Malfoy are going undercover to capture him. You will bring him in alive, and he will be questioned under Veritaserum and tried accordingly. Please explain what it is about this assignment that you don't understand."

Swallowing, Harry tried to sound deferential. "It's just – Senior Auror Shacklebolt – I have a partner. And with all due respect to Auror Malfoy," Harry ignored the snort of disbelief coming from the man next to him, and continued as though it hadn't happened, "I trust Auror Weasley with my life. We know each other very well, and I truly believe that in such a highly charged situation it would benefit the case for me to work with someone whose moves I can predict with ease."

Seeming to consider this for a moment, Kingsley drew his arms up to rest his elbows on the desk, pressing the pads of his fingers together and leaning forward to consider Harry over the strong digits. "Tell me, Auror Potter, did you read the case file I left on your desk?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And are you familiar with this case?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then tell me, Auror Potter, what is this killer's modus operandi? What is the one obvious constant that links his victims together and allows us to surmise that this is a serial killer and not a string of unfortunate coincidences?"

Harry's heart plummeted to his stomach, and he swallowed hard before answering, "His victims are always couples; a blond male and a brunette female. But Sir, why do I have to partner with Auror Malfoy?"

"Because he is our only blond Auror."

"Yes, but Sir, I'm not a brunette female. Larter is…"

"Not fully field-trained, has never worked undercover before, and has a rather embarrassing crush on Auror Malfoy. I can be assured that _you_ , Auror Potter, will not jump Auror Malfoy while you should be apprehending a criminal. Can't I?"

"Yes! Like I'd…" The look from his boss quelled him, and Harry changed tactics. "Never mind. Okay, but if it's experience that you're looking for, then Rose…"

"Auror Tyler is four months pregnant. I will not have her performing work this dangerous."

Harry scowled, forgetting where he was and slumping back in his chair moodily. "Please, Sir, there must be some other way."

"No, Auror Potter, there isn't. I would trust no one else but you with this assignment. You two will use the briefing room to set up your plan. You will scope out the clubs which appear on the Valentine Vault Bar-Crawl, and you will ensure that you know them inch by inch. I expect the two of you to bring this suspect in, or find new jobs next week. This meeting is over."

The door to Kingsley's office had barely closed behind them when Draco smirked, "I do hope you haven't let yourself go under those billowy robes, I don’t want to be seen with a dog on my arm."

Harry was too shell-shocked to reply. Walking slowly back to the office he shared with Ron, he sank onto his desk chair and dropped his head to the scuffed wood with a loud thump. 

"What's up with you? Finally get fired for ogling Malfoy's arse?"

It was testament to how depressed he was that Harry did not lose his famous temper over the jab at his rather unfortunate crush. "m'worknwifferret."

Ron grunted in confusion and Harry raised his head, repeating himself clearly and shooting Ron a look that said quite firmly _do not tease me about this._ "I'm working with the ferret."

"Oh. Does that mean I get to work with his hot little partner, Kayla?"

"Doubt Hermione would have that."

"If Kingsley said…"

"Kingsley versus Hermione, I wonder who would win?" Harry intoned dryly

Ron swallowed hard, paling visibly. "Fair point. So you're coming back to me."

"Yeah, once the skirt's been dry-cleaned."

"That's all right then- _what_?"

Sighing, Harry cast a warming charm on his half-full coffee cup, and began to fill Ron in. 

 

~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~

 

Drumming his fingertips on the large oak table that dominated the briefing room, Draco glanced through the flyers for the _Valentine Vault_. The bar crawl progressed down the main night-life street in London, taking in six pubs and ending at the _Salacious_ club. Each couple was given a challenge card, and in each pub they had to answer a riddle from the barman and record the answer before they progressed to the next pub. When they arrived at the nightclub, they were to hand in their challenge card to the organiser, and then at midnight the winners of an exclusive, romantic trip would be announced. And each year for the past four years, a couple had been brutally murdered in the alleyway outside after closing time, a Queen of Hearts playing card left in the pool of their blood. 

Last year, it had been a Wizarding couple, which was why the Ministry was involved, and Draco winced as he reviewed the photos. Even though they were Wizarding photos, they were unmoving, and it distressed him greatly. Draco wanted this bastard dead. Getting to see Harry in a skirt just happened to be an added bonus. 

Looking up as the door slammed shut, Draco rolled his eyes condescendingly. "Honestly, Potter. And to what do I owe this fit of teenage melodrama?"

"Wank off, Malfoy."

"Charming, but no. Now, with a little persuasion, I've managed to get us access to the six pubs for today, so that we can plot escape routes, and likely hiding places where this scumbag can choose his victims. The nightclub will have to be done twice – once today and again tonight, as I have no doubt that the ambience will alter drastically at night."

Dismayed that Draco already had such a solid plan, Harry resorted to an old familiar insult just to reclaim a little ground. "No shit, Sherlock. It's a _night_ club, of course the damn _ambience_ will change at night."

Breezing on as though he wasn't being insulted by his co-worker, Draco gestured to the large boards that held pictures and charts and witness testimonies, and continued. "You need to make sure you know this through and through, we only get one chance to make this work. We have to study the victims, and model our behaviour on the commonalities in theirs. That increases the chances he picks us, and finds himself faced with two unexpected wands. Well, three if he gets a look up your skirt."

Hissing in anger, Harry stood up and crossed over to the boards, turning his back on Malfoy. It was bad enough that an accidental ogling in the staff showers had left him with the image of Malfoy's cock burned on his brain, and a strange and depressing crush on the other, but to be having to work with him, go undercover with him, trust him so intimately – all while wearing a skirt – was just pushing it too far. He wondered briefly how angry Kingsley would be if Harry went over his head and used his 'Boy Who Lived' status to get the Minister to intervene. 

Harry's mind supplied him with images of mushroom clouds from the TV, and he decided that perhaps sticking it out with Draco would be the better option. 

 

~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~

 

All six pubs and the club were committed to the two Aurors' memories, and Harry sank gratefully into one of the soft, comfy leather chairs in the briefing room. He was extremely glad to be back at the Ministry, and had just closed his eyes and began fantasising about what he could have for tea, when a memo fluttered in and swooped around his head, demanding attention that he willingly gave when he cracked his eyes open and saw Kingsley's seal. 

Snatching the enchanted paper from the air, Harry slit the seal with his thumb and unfolded the parchment, his eyes scanning Kingsley's firm hand. "Come on Malfoy, Boss wants to see us."

Draco nodded, setting down the dossier on the second couple which the Met had been _convinced_ into handing over, and stood up to follow Harry down the hall. Harry rapped sharply on the door, and they waited for Kingsley's deep voice to filter through the door. 

"Come in."

Nodding briefly when Harry opened the door and stepped back to let Draco enter first, the blond crossed to the large desk and sat at Kingsley's instruction. When the door was closed, Draco focused his attention on his boss. He heard Harry moan, and smirked as Harry sank into the chair next to him.

"What now, Potter?"

"Sir, those shoes…"

"The female victims all wore black patent stilettos. It's a link, however tenuous."

Sighing, Harry brought his hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to hide the flush of embarrassment curling around his cheeks. "But Sir, I won't be able to run in those, or even walk in them!"

"You have a wand; you can Stun without having to run. And Auror Malfoy will be able to run should the need arise. Furthermore, you will spend the rest of the day practising to ensure that you can walk in them. You also have a meeting with the owner of Madame Malkin’s, who is aware of the operation and will help you dress accordingly."

"Sir?"

Looking up, Kingsley was momentarily surprised that the complaint should be coming from Malfoy, and not Potter. "Yes, Auror Malfoy?"

"Sir, experience tells me that a dry run of an operation is best. I merely wish to suggest that myself and Auror Potter do a test run of the Valentine Vault tonight, in full gear, to ensure there are no mistakes tomorrow." Draco bit back his smirk, keeping his face impassive as he pretended not to see the shell-shocked, offended expression on Harry's face. If he didn't know better though, he would have sworn the ghost of a smirk flitted across his boss' face.

"That's a smart move, Auror Malfoy. You can go with Auror Potter to the fitting, and then straight on out for the dry run. I expect a full debrief, including any possible problems, tomorrow morning at nine sharp."

Draco stood up, hooking his fingers into the shoes and dangling them in front of Harry's face. "Come on Potter, we have work to do."

He couldn't be sure, but Draco was sure that Harry squeaked. Cute.

 

~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~

 

Much as a tree toppled to the forest floor and shook the area around it, Harry went toppling to the floor of Madam Malkin’s, cursing all the way. Reaching down to rub the ankle he'd gone over on, he saw the smirk on Draco's face and pulled his shoe off, flinging it at the blond but missing by inches. Unperturbed, Harry flung the other shoe, and then his keys for good measure.

Picking up the projectiles, Draco walked calmly over to Harry and offered his hand. "Come on, you need to perfect this. Get up, and we'll go again."

Staggering to his feet, Harry rammed the first of the hateful shoes back on, but Draco stopped him applying the second. "You might as well get changed first. Walking in heels wearing socks is different to walking in heels wearing tights."

"And you'd know this how?"

"Intelligence, and a careful application of common sense. Your socks have…" Draco flicked one of the woolly bobbles in disgust, " _things_ on them."

"They're Snitches!"

"You're twenty six!"

Harry pouted, but Madam Malkin chose that moment to walk into the spacious dressing room they were using, cutting off any reply Harry might have had. 

"Rightio boys, I was told this was a covert Muggle-based thingy –"

"Operation." Draco stated dryly. _Thingy_ indeed!

"Yes, one of those. So I got you clothes from the new Muggle Section we introduced. I went with the big sellers that fit the specifications I was sent. Take all the time you need, and call out if you need any help."

The old woman deposited the clothes on the long, padded bench, and Harry picked up the sheer tights that rested on the top, letting them unfurl gracefully. "Help."

"Chin up, Potter, it could be worse."

"How could this be any worse?"

"Well, you could have to shave your legs or something equally – oh, yeah, okay. No, this couldn't be any worse."

Shooting a glare at the blond, Harry looked helplessly at the clothes. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and swallowed against the bitter taste of his words. "I'm sure you have a better idea of what to do with all this stuff, so can you please help me, Mal-Draco?"

Smirking, Draco stepped forward and ran his fingers over the soft material of the vest top Harry was to wear. "I doubt I know much but what Pansy has bored into me over many a coffee. Still, I know enough, so let's get going. Strip to your boxers, and we'll start."

Flushing, Harry knew that to protest would alert Draco to his discomfort of being naked around the blond. Which would lead to questions, and Harry knew that Draco was a clever Auror, able to spot a lie a mile off. So he stripped trousers, outer robe, jumper, shirt, and socks. Standing in the middle of the dressing room, Harry could see himself reflected from all angles by the mirrored walls, and he caught Draco staring at the tattoo that adorned Harry's back, running from his neck to his arse along the seam of his spine. "Done ogling me?"

"In your wet dreams, Potter."

"And you call my responses childish."

Knowing that actions spoke louder than words, Draco chose that moment to cast the hair removal charm, aiming it at Harry's legs in quick succession and prompting the other man into making that strange squeaking noise again. 

"What have you done?!"

"Women have smooth legs. Shut up, and put the tights on."

"How?"

"I don't know! Just sort of… roll them up, then roll them onto your legs, okay?"

Harry scowled, sitting heavily on the bench and rolling the tights up. He vaguely remembered a television advert for tights, and he followed his recollection of what the woman in the advert had done, managing – after much cursing, catching of his nails, and shuffling about – to get the tights on and over his soft grey boxers. After that battle, getting into the short black skirt and soft green vest top was a doddle, and Harry was soon stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself in utter dismay. "I look a pillock!"

Draco shook his head – in silent laughter, Harry assumed – and pulled out his wand and a sheet of parchment. "Okay, now we use the glamours."

"Glamours? Then why the hell are…"

"Potter, use the stuff that stops the wind whistling through your ears. The magic it would take to make you look like a woman would be colossal – it would alert any wizard in the vicinity. If the killer is a wizard, do you think he'll just ignore such a heavy concentration of magic?"

"No." Harry muttered sullenly.

"Exactly. These glamours, however, are only soft. They'll make you appear feminised to people that don't know you're you. So I'll spend the night looking at a pillock in a skirt, but everyone else will see a moderately attractive, if slightly androgynous, woman."

"Moderately? Androgynous?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco cleared his throat and began casting the glamours. If he let his eyes slide out of focus, then he could see the effect the glamours had on Harry, and it made Draco infinitely grateful for the billowy Auror robes he wore. Harry's features had always appealed to Draco in their delicate androgyny, and the glamours played to that, heightening the feminine edges and shadowing the masculine edges. For the first time, Draco thought that they had a fighting chance of nailing this guy.

Then Harry fell off his heels.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco edited that thought. The had a fighting chance of nailing this guy if Harry didn't fall over and give the world a sight of the goodies he was hiding up his skirt. 

Which, Draco mused, were very ample goodies indeed. Leaning forward, he landed a playful spank on Harry's arse, making him squeak yet again, and grinned at the indignation in the other man's eyes. "Come on, Potter; let's teach you how to walk."

 

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After the most painful six hours of his life – mainly because even when Harry didn’t land on him, he grabbed hold of Draco as he was falling and took Draco down with him – Draco was finally settling down in the first pub for a well-earned pint. He'd just brought the heavy, dark bitter to his mouth, letting his top lip touch the head and savour the firm fluff before it entered his mouth and slid down his throat, when he caught sight of Harry and choked, inhaling the head up his nose and coughing into his sleeve.

"What is it?"

"I can see up your skirt!"

Harry snickered, then registered that boxers had been too difficult with the tights, and snapped his legs shut, inadvertently squashing his balls and bringing tears to his eyes. "How – oh god, that hurt – how do I sit, then?"

"Try crossing your ankles. And for Merlin's sake, keep your knees together. No glamours in the world will hide that."

Harry's gaze snapped up to meet with Draco's, and something strange seemed to crackle for a moment as Harry asked cheekily, "Impressed by what you saw, Draco?"

Deciding there was no way to elegantly extract himself from the inadvertent compliment he'd given, Draco just wiped his mouth and finally took his first sip of beer, enjoying the bitter liquid as he tried to drag his mind away from the rather lovely view he'd been afforded. 

 

~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~

 

As they entered the club, Draco's eyes were out of focus so that he could see Harry's hips sway with an exaggeratedly feminine swing thanks to the glamours. Harry looked hot, and Draco was beginning to realise that the pint of bitter had not been a good idea. Nor had the tequila that they'd done in pub number four. Who'd have thought Potter would be such a good night out? Or look quite so good with his firm, plump buttocks trapped in a teeny-tiny (well, mid-thigh length, but Draco wasn't really counting) skirt?

Turning around, Harry rested his hand on Draco's chest to stop the other man walking into him, and cocked his head to the side. "What do we do now?"

"Uhm – dance."

"I can't."

Shrugging, Draco grabbed Harry's hand and led him to the dance floor, weaving through the throng of bodies until he found a secluded little spot from where they could see every inch of the club. "Just, sort of, do what everyone else is doing, and keep looking around everywhere."

Harry nodded, but from what everyone else was doing, all he could surmise was that he was supposed to wrap his limbs around Draco and rub up against him. Which didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Shaking his head, Harry tried to just move to the beat of the bass, all the while looking around him and scoping the scene out. He spotted a possible alcove that the suspect might use, but the only way to relay this information to Draco was to press his lips almost against the blond's ear. 

So Harry did that; winding an arm around Draco's neck to make it seem as though they were just a regular couple, he whispered, "Your ten, my four, possible spot."

Discreetly, Draco looked around, and smiled gently. It was a perfect spot, giving a clear view of everything that happened, but with nothing to draw the attention of the club to it. Leaning back to nod his agreement to Harry, Draco somehow got trapped in sparkling emerald eyes. As he stared at Harry, his mouth hanging open, Draco wondered how it was that Harry was in a skirt but it was him behaving like a damn girl. 

Swallowing hard, all Harry could think about was how perfect it would be to plunge his tongue into Draco's open mouth and lick until all the blond's flavour was gone. Instead, he yelled that he was going home, and broke away from Draco, stumbling through the crowds and out of the club, the cold February air hitting him like a sledgehammer. 

Staggering down the alleyway, Harry checked no one was around before stepping clumsily on the spot and Disapparating. 

Safely inside his home, Harry discovered some very good things about women's clothes. Skirts could just be pushed up over the aching bulge of your prick, and tights were no match for a man's fumbling, desperate fingers. The ripping sound was the last thing Harry was conscious of as he curled his fingers around his cock and stroked himself into a blissful frenzy.

 

~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~

 

Kingsley entered his office, hanging his travelling cloak on the stand and moving to sit at his desk. Flicking through the memos awaiting his attention to ensure that they could all wait until his meeting was over, he set them down and looked up, meeting first grey and then green eyes. "How did it go?"

"Perfect."

"Without a hitch, Sir."

"Good. Spend the day preparing, and make sure you have everything you need for tonight. We are not losing another couple, understand me?"

"Yes, Sir. May I ask, how are the Met taking this?"

Kingsley rolled his eyes and Summoned over the coffee that his secretary had left on the edge of the desk for him. "The usual way. Angry that Operation W have been called in to get the credit for all their – well, they claim it's hard work, but from the state of the files I find that hard to believe. The Prime Minister is taking some heat, but nothing he can't handle. He won't risk the world having him committed by admitting that he's handed the operation over to a bunch of men with sticks, so we're in the clear."

"There won't be any over-zealous coppers about tonight, will there?" Draco questioned quietly; some rent-a-hero cop could really throw a spanner in his plans.

Kingsley sipped the dark liquid, shaking his head as he swallowed. "No, they've been told to keep police presence to standard levels. You two will be able to do your jobs. There will be back up – Auror Weasley and Auror Larter, in an all night café round the corner – and you both know the code word to send a panic signal back to base. If that's all, we all have a busy day ahead of us."

Knowing they were dismissed, Harry and Draco stood, walking to the door. As Draco rested his hand on the door knob and went to turn it, he heard Kingsley speak softly to them.

"Good luck tonight, and Merlin's wits with you."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Thank you, Senior Auror Shacklebolt."

 

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They'd spent the day going over the case, learning every detail and ensuring that they'd look like a veritable feast for the killer. And Harry had to admit, when Draco walked back into the briefing room after changing in the toilets, that the dark denims, crisp white shirt, and hair free of product, made Draco look absolutely gorgeous. As he cleared his throat and excused himself to go and get changed in the toilets, Harry knew he'd have to have a very hasty wank unless he wanted to stretch his skirt out of shape. 

Ignoring the whoops and whistles that accompanied him walking back down the corridor, Harry flipped a finger at Ron before the redhead could even comment, and stepped into the briefing room. His hasty wank had obviously screwed up his mind, because Harry could have sworn that he saw longing buried in slate depths. It was soon gone, however, and Draco was all business when he stood up and cleared his throat, "Let's get you glamoured up, and then we can go."

 

~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~

 

Draco returned from the bar, passing a coke to Harry and setting his own bottle of Becks on the table. 

"What was the riddle?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco took a sip of the vile lager, and thought back to the angry looking barman and the riddle he'd hissed when he noticed the pink carnation in Draco's buttonhole that marked him as part of the _Valentine Vault_. "You're not serious about this are you?"

"It'll pass the evening. Come on, Draco, don't be so stroppy."

Sighing, Draco repeated the riddle. "A bus driver and a doctor are in love with the same woman, an attractive girl named Sarah. The bus driver has to go on a bus trip for a week. The bus driver gave Sarah seven apples. Why?"

Harry grinned, and used the little pen to write the answer on the card the organiser had given all of the couples. "That's easy."

"Is it?"

"Yep."

"You've certainly cheered up."

"I still feel like a prick, and I'm still uncomfortable. But we have to look like we're getting involved, and the whole point of signing up for this stupid thing is to answer the riddles to win the trip. If we’re the only couple not answering the riddles, the killer will know something is up."

Surprisingly, Draco couldn't fault that logic.

 

~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~

 

By the fourth pub, Draco was heartily sick of Becks, and riddles, and having to look away to stop himself leaning over and doing something wicked to Harry. Setting the drinks on the table, he slid into the booth next to Harry and muttered the riddle without being asked. "Mountains will crumble and temples will fall, and no man can survive its endless call. What is it?"

Harry pondered that one for a little while, then scribbled the answer on their card and smiled softly at Draco. Harry was slightly smaller than him, and as Draco's arm was slung across the top of the seat, Harry seemed to fit neatly against his body when he leant across Draco to get his drink. Draco swallowed hard at the thought that under the tight skirt, hidden under the visage of feminine beauty, was a cock to be proud of. His mind helpfully provided him with the image of Harry's thighs tight around his waist, the skirt pushed up as Draco rutted between his legs. 

Biting back a moan, Draco focused back in on what Harry was saying; back in on the world around them as he tried to spot a madman in a crowd of muggles who all struck him as slightly barmy.

 

~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~♥~^~^~^~^~

 

As they entered the club, Harry dropped the card in the box and smiled at the organiser, who winked at him. If this had been a regular night out, Harry might have pursued the man's interest. Then again, if this were a regular night out, Harry wouldn't be wearing a skirt and a straight man wouldn't be winking at him. Sighing, Harry leant close to Draco and spoke up so the blond would hear him over the thumping music. "Dance floor?"

Draco nodded taking Harry's hand and leading him through the crowd. The club was packed out tonight, and the two Aurors had no choice but to press against each other as they danced, unless they wanted to be crushed into random strangers. 

The music wore on with the hours, and as the searches for the suspect still turned up no likely candidates, Harry and Draco found themselves focusing more on dancing and less on the world around them. Harry was hot, and incredibly turned on, which was why he had his back to Draco as they danced; he didn’t want anything to poke anyone. He'd long ago given up on the suspect showing – not one of the men he'd looked at was a good fit for the crime. 

Then, two things happened in very quick succession, which changed the course of the night forever. A burly guy knocked into Harry, and to stop his partner falling, Draco's hands moved across his body to keep him upright. Draco's right palm ended up directly over the slight bulge in Harry's skirt, which immediately got much bigger as Harry blushed and wondered what the hell he was going to say, or worse, what Draco might scream at him. 

"You _naughty_ little thing!"

Harry hadn’t been expecting that, and he hissed in pleasure as Draco's hand pressed down against his now fully-erect cock. "Draco don't – don't play with me."

Throwing caution to the wind, Draco used his left hand to clutch Harry's hip, bringing him back and pressing his groin against Harry's firm arse as his lips worked against Harry's ear. "You have no idea just how much I'm going to play with you. I'm going to start with that delicious tattoo, lick from the tip of the tongue to the tip of the tail. How far does it go, Harry? Does that patterned tail go all the way to your hole? Did some burly man hold you open and make you scream as the needle caressed the sensitive skin? Did the pain get you off?"

Harry whimpered, and Draco's hips started rolling of their own accord against Harry's arse, his hand massaging the bulge gently as Harry's hands moved too, one clutching Draco's forearm and the other reaching back to clench Draco's hair. "When I'm done with the tattoo, I'll move my tongue to your arse, licking and sucking until it's wet and stretched and you're begging me to fuck you, to give you my cock and fuck you raw. But I don't just want to hear you begging, and pleading and moaning like a wanton little slut, I want to hear you squeak. That indignant little squeak, fuck, it turns me on so much, such a hot little sound."

Harry truly wasn't playing up to Draco. But those words, said in such a gravel-laced, burning chocolate voice, made him squeak, and he felt the effect it had on Draco as the blond surged forward, grinding his erection against Harry's arse. "Fuck. Fucking Hell. Fuck, I'm going to make you squeak just like that. And I know just how to do it. Bend you over, push that skirt up, and spank your arse. I'll get the angle just right, so that your plump cheek bounces just a little."

Harry remembered the spank in the dressing room, and his arse clenched at the thought of more playful, stinging slaps, with the promise of so much more. With effort, he wrenched forward and turned, pressing back against Draco and clamping their mouths together in a bruising kiss. It was wet and desperate, mouthy and uncoordinated as Harry attempted to suck Draco's orgasm out through his throat. He could feel teeth and tongue, taste copper from someone's blood, and it only served to make him harder. The killer hadn’t come, the mission was a waste, Harry would probably lose his job, but none of that mattered because right now, "If you aren't fucking me in the next thirty seconds I'm going to scream."

Draco had been about to admonish Harry for breaking the kiss – he hadn’t kissed like that since he was a teenager – but Harry's suggestion was much better. Nodding his approval, Draco cast one more glance around before he grabbed Harry's wrist and practically ran through the remaining crowd, bursting out of the entrance and looking around wildly. Seeing the alleyway, Draco knew they'd never make it home in one piece, and he dragged Harry down the alleyway. 

Hissing as his back hit the cold stone wall, Harry's hands scrabbled at Draco's shirt, sending buttons pinging down the dark alley as he ripped the fabric open to get at the smooth chest underneath. "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

Draco nodded, too busy trying to work his belt – who the _hell_ decided clothes needed so many fastenings? – to check his words as he spoke. "You too. Look so hot in a skirt, fuck, so much hotter than normal."

Harry swallowed hard at the implications, but then the gloriousness that was Draco's cock springing free from his trousers caught Harry's attention, and he gurgled, his arse already rippling at the thought of being impaled on such a nice, thick column of silky hardness. 

Shoving Harry's skirt up around his waist, Draco rubbed the palm of his hand over the bulge of Harry's cock, rubbing the sensitive, leaking head with the coarse material of the tights and making Harry whimper. "So wet and hard for me. I'm going to make you come all over this skirt, you'll never be able to return it. Going to fuck you six ways from Sunday, with it bunched around your waist. You want that?"

"Yes, hell yes, already!"

Draco smirked, grabbing the tights in his hands and ripping harshly. It gave him access, and he muttered three charms in quick succession – protection, lubrication, and stretching – before taking Harry's silky shaft in his hand and pressing two fingers into Harry's arse. 

His head thumped back against the wall at the pleasurable burn, and Harry knew there'd be a lump in the morning, but he didn’t care. It felt too damn good to care, and his hands scrabbled at Draco's shoulders as Harry kicked his leg out, resting his foot on some old beer crates, bracing himself between that and the wall as he lifted the other leg to wrap around Draco's back. 

Pushing a third finger into Harry's welcoming heat, Draco crushed their lips together again, sucking and biting as he quickly flexed Harry open. The need to bury himself in Harry was overwhelming, and Draco moved his hand from Harry's cock to cup his arse, tilting it forwards as he withdrew his fingers and smeared lubricant over his cock. Guiding his cock into place, Draco held Harry with both hands and drove his hips forward sharply, burying himself deep and swallowing Harry's scream of pleasure with a desperate kiss. 

There wasn't even the pretension that this would last, and Harry moved a hand from Draco's shoulder to his own bounding prick, stroking it as the blond rutted frantically between his legs. His head thrown back and his eyes squeezed closed, Harry was almost at his peak when there was a sickening crunch and Draco slid roughly from his body. 

Harry staggered, only just getting his leg off the crates in time to catch his balance and keep standing. For a split second, he looked at the man in front of him – the man with a knife, a lead pipe, and a Queen of Hearts playing card in his top pocket. Then the man's gaze travelled down and widened in shock at Harry's cock, still erect and flushed red, standing out from under his skirt, clearly visible. Utilising the unexpected advantage, Harry yanked his wand out of his top, and began Casting.

 

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"…and furthermore, instead of alerting us that you had not managed to find the suspect yet, you decided it would be a good idea to go outside – _outside_ , where anyone could see two Aurors, two _representatives_ of the _British Ministry for Magic_ rutting against each other like _stray dogs_ – and what, exactly? Let him get on with murdering some couple?"

"He came to murder us!" Draco muttered sullenly, fingers gingerly touching the aching lump on the back of his head.

"I do not care! I have _never_ been so _disgusted_ with the behaviour of my Aurors in my _life_! The two of you are both suspended for a week. No, a fortnight! Get out of my office!"

The dull thunk on the door implied that Kingsley had flung his paperweight at them as they left, and Harry sighed softly. "I'm going home."

 

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He wasn't exactly sure how it had been an invitation, but here Harry was, watching the sun rise over Draco's shoulder as he stood in his doorway and faced the blond. "Uhm – about earlier."

Harry was expecting to be knocked back – it had been the heat of the night, the stress of the chase, the crap, non-alcoholic lager. Anything, but what Draco actually said.

"Yeah, I'm not normally so anticlimactic, but I don't normally have to contend with mental, lead-pipe-wielding serial killers while I fuck someone blind. I guarantee it won't happen next time."

Snickering, Harry leant on the doorframe and folded his keys through his fingers idly. "Next time? What makes you think that will happen?"

Smiling his most winning smile, Draco stepped up onto the stoop and leant close enough that his nose brushed against Harry's as he spoke. "Because I haven't had a chance to spank that gorgeous little arse until you squeak yet."

Harry swallowed, swaying closer to Draco, his eyes slipping closed as the blond whispered against his lips, "Say yes, Harry."

"Yes."

That simple word ended the sweetness, and the desperate kisses were back as Draco cupped Harry's face in his hands, hunching his shoulders closer to Harry as Harry grabbed the waistband of Draco's jeans and dragged him into the house, kicking the door closed and stumbling back against it. As he went to unzip the skirt, Draco shook his head. "Leave it on."

Acquiescing, Harry reached under the skirt to grab the trashed tights, yanking them down and peeling them off, kicking the hateful shoes across the hall and wincing as the heel made a gouge mark in the skirting board. Draco let out a bark of laughter, which was quickly silenced by Harry's mouth as he took over from Draco's fingers in pushing the white shirt from Draco's shoulders. 

Once Draco was naked, and Harry was naked save for the skirt, Draco turned Harry around and rested his palms on the door, pulling his hips out and nudging his legs apart. Slowly, Draco used his palms to roll the skirt up, exposing Harry's arse and trapping his cock in the material. Dropping to his knees, Draco bit down on Harry's back, before using his tongue to trace the tail of the snake tattoo down, parting Harry's buttocks without breaking the contact of tongue on skin. When he tasted the musky, wrinkled skin of Harry's arse, Draco hummed in delight and lapped greedily until the muscle relaxed and allowed him to plunge his tongue into Harry's tight heat, lapping at velvet soft walls as the sounds of Harry's pleasure filled his ears. 

Opening his eyes, Draco moaned at the sight of the tattoo that did indeed stretch down Harry's cleft, and the vibrations made his lover squeak. Draco knew then and there that he was going to spend the rest of his life hearing that squeak every day and twice on Sundays, or die trying. 

Reluctantly, he separated his mouth from Harry's arse, standing up and sucking at the back of Harry's neck as he stepped to the side, bending his body so that he could keep his lips on Harry's skin, but still draw his hand back and playfully spank Harry's arse. It made Harry yelp at the gentle sting, and Draco moved to suckle Harry's earlobe, voice husky as he asked, "You like that?"

"Y-yes."

Stepping back, Draco landed a few more spanks, watching perfect, firm globes bounce and blush as Harry whimpered and wriggled against the closed door. But looking just wasn't doing it for Draco, and he repeated the same three charms from earlier, pressing two fingers into Harry and flexing them as he draped over the Harry's back. 

"Draco! I'm not – I'm not going to last…" Harry's voice trailed off on a breath of anticipation as Draco's fingers pulled out, and there were wet smacking sounds before something blunt rested against his arse. Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed out as Draco thrust in, and exhaled on a curse as the blond came to rest snug against him. 

With all the teasing, of earlier that night and since they'd got to Harry's home, this was still a fast-and-furious situation, and Draco braced one hand on the door as the other slung around Harry's waist, pulling Harry into his thrusts. Their moans danced and twisted in the air around them, echoing around the high hallway to the rhythmic accompaniment of slapping balls, hips and buttocks, and the wet sounds of lubricant and pre-come. 

Though his hands were braced on the door to keep from getting his face mashed in, the skirt was providing more than enough stimulation to Harry's cock, and with a ragged cry that seared his throat, he came hard enough to see white spots in his vision, his cock pumping load after slick load into the material of the skirt. 

The tight rippling of the channel he was buried in was Draco's undoing, and he bit down into Harry's shoulder as he came, his hips pressing almost painfully into Harry's buttocks as his balls clenched, forcing his orgasm from him to coat Harry's channel. Spurt after spurt, for what seemed like forever, and when it was over Draco's knees gave way and he collapsed forward, pressing Harry into the single cool glass plate at the top of the door, just in time to see the startled postman on the other side. 

Harry groaned and Draco chuckled, turning them sideways and slithering to the floor, keeping Harry in his lap even though his softening cock slid free of Harry's arse with a wet noise. Harry glanced at the junk mail that fell on his lap, and tossed it to the floor, closing his eyes and leaning back against Draco's chest. "So what now?"

Draco murmured contentedly, and smiled as he spoke. "Well, we've been conveniently suspended in time for the luxury 10 day _Valentine Vault_ cruise."

"We won? How'd you know that?"

"The organiser caught me and gave me the tickets when I was heading to the toilet last night. I was going to tell you but we ended up getting a little distracted."

Harry chuckled softly and laced his fingers with Draco's. "Yeah, we did. And what about the other four days?"

"We'll spend them moving my things in here."

Harry choked on his tongue a little in shock, and twisted his head round to look at Draco. "You want – that's a bit fast, isn't it?"

Shrugging, Draco let the smirk slide from his face; let Harry see in his eyes that real feeling backed the humour in his words. "Well, we delay the inevitable a bit. We can spend those four days having sex, or going out, or having sex. I don't mind."

"And back at work?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I'd suggest against sex at work. But sex before work and after work is just fine."

Nodding, Harry stood up and held his hand out to Draco, pulling the naked blond up and grinning at the confused look on his new lover's face. "We haven't finished the operation until there's been a thorough and detailed debrief. Preferably in my abnormally large bath."

As Harry turned to lead the way upstairs, Draco couldn't resist one last, playful spank to Harry's arse just to hear that delicious squeak one more time. That would _never_ get old.


End file.
